Page 40 of Tank

“Shhh! On the count of three I need you to slowly shuffle backward toward the door,” I whisper yell at him. “THREE!”

“Um, where is she going?” Chewy’s voice asks someone. Someone who just laughs in reply rather than answers. “Mira! Writer Lady! Where are you going? There’s a package here for you and I’m dying to see what it is!”

Shoot! I forgot all about that dumb package. The whole reason I was here in the first place. My brain must have gotten addled, what with the bike ride from hell and Tyson kissing the living daylights out of me and then cuddling me. God that was so nice. Being all up in his warm, hard chest. A thick arm wraps around me, Tyson’s hand gently gripping my forearm, tugging me to move from behind his wide back, and moving me to stand beside him. He doesn’t let go of my arm however, no, he slides his hand down my forearm, meeting my hand, his fingers twining with mine. He gives my hand a little squeeze, giving me the strength I need to stop bricking it.

“OK. Yes, I’m here for the big package unveiling!” I decide to cover my discomfort with bravado and drama. I wave my free hand in a jazz hands type of way and let Tyson’s chuckle soothe me.

Chewy gets up and power walks directly into a table, bouncing off, Chomper’s legs in the front pack jolting slightly. “Hate when that happens” she mutters, righting her course and beelining her way toward the table in front of me, coming to a stop next to a boring brown box.

“Huh. That’s a lot bigger than the last one,” I mumble under my breath.

I slowly tiptoe my way closer. I don’t think there’s a bomb in there, but still, I’m a big girl. I don’t want to accidentally jostle it with my giant Fee Fi Fo Fum footsteps. Looking up I notice everyone’s rapt attention. Running my fingers over the top of the box I start to pick at the tape at the end, jumping when Tyson rests a hand on my hip and flicks out his pen knife.

“Sorry, Doll,” he murmurs in my ear, the thumb of the hand on my hip stroking back and forth hypnotically, causing a good fire in my groin. Not like the one on our date.

He easily slices through the tape along the top of the box, and then the sides, waiting for me to open the flaps. Looking around the room, at the audience waiting for the unveiling, I take a deep breath, let it out and then gingerly open the flaps, first one, then the other.

Nothing jumps out at me, so that’s a good sign. Peering inside I see pink tissue paper. Huh. Not really wanting to touch it too much I use a pincer grip to take up the edge and slowly move it out of the box, dropping it to the table once it comes away clean.

“Ugh this is taking too long! Want me to do it?” Chewy asks, almost vibrating with excitement and wonder.

I wave at her to step forward. I’m not a scaredy cat, but I’m also not one to steal the moment off someone who really would appreciate it. She claps her hands, then high fives Rhodie before taking excited little tippy toe steps to the box. She dives straight in, like a kid in a lucky dip barrel, hands first, peering over the top of the box.

“Ahhh, something is afoot!” She announces, mirth on her face as she steps back with a foot in her hand.

There are yelps and shouts and it all sounds very, very far away. Like I’m in a tunnel. Or like there’s an ocean in my ears. But not in a good way like when you go to the beach with yournana and listen to shells. No, this is like the type of ocean you hear when you’re drowning.

“Chewy! Put the fucking foot down!” Marx barks, just as Chewy mimes kicking Rhodie’s behind with it. She places it back in the box, but not before turning it this way and that, having a good ole looksee.

“Switch, mind taking a look at it? Tell us what you can,”

Chewy goes to open her mouth to report back, but Marx silences her with a hand up.

Switch, the loud ginger doctor man I’ve chatted to once or twice, pulls a pair of glasses out of his pocket, rests them on his face, and takes a look at the appendage in the box. While he’s doing this, Rhodie looks at the box from all angles, mumbling something to Rider.

While the MC look further into the goddamned (sorry Nana) foot I’ve been sent, Tyson guides me toward the worn leather couch, takes a seat and then pulls me onto his lap. HIs arms wrap around me, holding me tight. I never knew how touch starved I’ve been lately, since nana died, but this right here brings it home. It feels so good to be given a hug when I’m not feeling on top of things. Usually I get deep into my head and think up the worst possible scenarios. But here, in this moment I feel calm, in control, and warm.

“You holding up OK there, Doll?” Tyson’s voice vibrates through me. I melt further into him, letting him take my weight because I know he can handle it.

“Well, I’ve never received a foot before. I’ve also never seen one not attached to a body either, so I guess it’s a day of firsts for me,” I tell him honestly, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. He squeezes me tighter and I watch Switch continue on with his foot-topsy.

“Well, it’s the lower extremity of someone who is advanced in age.” Switch booms. He has the loudest voice of anyone I’ve ever met. I like it.

“That tracks to what we found at the funeral home,” Tav says, stepping forward, Pops right behind him.

“Yeah, by the looks of it they’ve been having a go at the freshies. The four we looked at all had scars on their abdomens, not autopsy incisions either,” Pops says, effectively shutting down Savage before he could even ask. “These ones were small incisions, then glued back together. If you weren’t looking closely you’d never even notice they’d been tampered with.”

“Yeah but taking a foot from the ankle down? Surely a family member will miss that?” I’m not sure who said that, as there’s so many brothers asking questions and I don’t know them well enough to tell them by voice just yet.

“Yeah, dunno, that does seem extra fucked up,” Pops shrugs.

“Not to mention the bodies we saw had their feet,” Tav adds.

Marx lets out a long breath, “Gus, what else can you tell us about the funeral home?”

“Definitely on the take. Place is covered in marble and there are way more staff than a place that size should need,” Gus, the hot one married to Ana says.

“Any long haired orc motherfuckers?”

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